Long Tinkered Poems
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Hello. Mr. Wizard.
I heard you could help me out.
My engine has had me so disturbed
And your wisdom has been whispered
All about.
Hello. Mr. Wizard
Your friend referred
Me to you since I am in doubt
On my engine which has had me so disturbed.
According to legend you have tinkered
On these engines to know all the water and
Oil routes.
Hello. Mr Wizard
I am honored
To have met a wise man who isn't a lout.
I am glad you will help me with this problem
On my engine which has had me so disturbed.
Now I won't be so flustered.
Do you like trout?
Oh. Mr. Wizard
Thank you so much for helping me with this
Problem on my engine which had me so disturbed.
What else but weight endless for devil’s due?
And I’d need a few more tests to be sure,
Grimace or grin, but I ought to endure,
What greater devil was seemed like dawn’s dew:
Was it ailment or treatment of elbow?
Grey visions of an endless dark tunnel
Flashed in my mind, as dark and numbing dull,
More than pain, unknown fear churned in my maw.
Take a course of routine tabs to start with,
Your elbow’s whilst under my careful brow,
He said as tinkered it like a blacksmith,
As if pregnant, pain and swelling did grow,
An unknown growth grew within like close kith,
The treatment tottered for long to and fro.
And my mood too, back and forth, to and fro,
Its spectrum, violet to infra-red,
Let’s aspirate the fluid, at last he said,
If fluid is flushed, hope blister too would go.
My skin dulled, he sucked all the liquid out
And felt as if Everest looked dwarf in view,
But both were back in days less than a few—
The pain and swelling too with all their clout.
As I lived normal life as did before,
Pain was to me but tiny irritant,
If only I’d never seen this doctor’s door,
What if I leave him this very moment?
Whatso was wrong is confined to its core
In a small cell-like cyst and all but spent.
_______________________________________
Crown of sonnets | 03.11.2012, revised July 2023|
Poet’s note: Here are sonnets V and VI of a sequel of ten sonnets constituting one single poem called a crown of sonnets. The last line of the preceding sonnet is repeated as the first line of the next sonnet, but not verbatim; nor is the first line of the first sonnet is repeated as the last line of the tenth as is. The sestets are either a quartet and a couplet or two sets of three-lined Terza Rima. Hurt is the place from where light enters, and it did, I realized after my long-drawn medical treatment.
Five hundred years Giovanni Fontana had the notion
To rope gears to wheels and put it in motion.
One hundred years ago an idea came to Baron von Drais
Horses had been killed, ploughing required other ways.
Two wheels, no pedals, all made of wood
You had to push through the field, but still did some good.
A Scotsman added pedals, to the rear wheel
Maybe to celebrate, his friends danced a reel.
A Frenchman made the "boneshaker", which lived up to its name.
Ahead of its time, though reasons to complain.
It vibrated horrendously on the bumpy roads
Rattling teeth, rattling nerves, rattling loads.
Then England's "Penny Farthing" led the attack:
A five foot wheel in front, tiny wheel in back.
It was hard to climb on, and to keep a balance.
Every mount was a test of acrobatic talents
If you fell off without a helmet, it was hard on the brain.
Inventors went back to the drawing board again.
Radial spokes came in 1870, ball bearings 2 years later.
Progress is a goddess, love her or hate her.
Caliper brakes, multiple gears, shifters came fast.
Still too bumpy to have a blast.
Societies of bicyclists lobbied for roads paved and smooth.
Women started riding, old attitudes moved.
Across the pond Thomas Stevens rode a trans-U.S. ride.
With that kind of bike, a reason for pride.
Then pedals to gears got linked with a chain.
Derailleur was the next step, and a drive train.
The Italian Army used a foldable during World War I.
Between incoming bullets, they might have had fun.
Like the future Mountain bike, it handled rough terrain.
But for that, California cyclists tinkered, got the fame.
So that brings me to the day that I was cycling on a country road
composing verses, humming, reciting an ode.
Overtaken by two cyclists on electric bikes from Preston
Were batteries cheating? I glumly asked the question.
I concede it's liberation, more folks in fresh air
Their efforts assisted, but still mostly fair
Causality doesn't focus on me, of course
I'm just a convergence, a bike over a horse.
But all this history made it possible, on a rural lane
To move on my own power, through really nice terrain.
One Sunday, I came back alone,
Home early from the church,
Not having the key to get in,
I was left in the lurch;
Locked out in the scorching hot sun,
Looking for shade to stand,
Counting the vehicles go by,
I passed the time in hand;
Scolding myself for thoughtlessness,
I sat on "Jupiter",
Hoping my parents would come soon,
I waited undeterred;
Standing almost for one hour there,
Stuck outside my home zone,
In order to avoid the stares,
I tinkered with my phone;
That day, I learnt to be careful,
To check my handbag twice,
Be cool in all circumstances,
Be patient and precise.
09/18/17
*Jupiter - a two-wheeler brand
Form: Poulter's Measure
MY LATE NIGHT CONFESSION
Nocturnal calls for my lifetime detention.
So...here is my true confession.
Note: it's rather literal than figurative,
even as I now become a fugitive,
scarred from the sight of known men.
Let it be known that I killed two women;
My neighbour, and my best friend.
I hasten their journey and decide their end.
The police should be after me after this.
Forgive me Lord for I've lost my peace.
Good luck if justice finds me before mercy does.
April fool to everyone I've tinkered with their pulse.
#Aprilfool #Dontbeafool #Aprilisfull #fullofblessing???? #mylatenightconfession #vickmanuelpoetry #vmp #poetking????
Vick Manuel Poetry {VMP}
Form: Rhymes
Copyright ©? 1st April 2023.
A boy as gentle as a doe,
Who's friends opened his eyes,
To how strong he can be,
He leaves behind his broken ties,
A girl afraid of dying,
A brilliant girl who's mind was bejeweled,
So encouraged by friends,
Who treated her like she ruled,
A boy of lightning talent,
As calm as the rain,
All his friends around him,
Helped him talk about any pain,
A girl with a way of words,
With charms so bright,
A neglected, but loved child of an actor,
Her friends brought her light,
A boy who flowed like the water,
Whose laughter was a key,
A steadfast rock for others,
But his friends held his head above his sea,
A girl who liked sticking to plans,
And her brilliant ideas,
But sometimes she let go,
And her friends caught all her fears,
A boy who tinkered and built,
Full of jokes and fire,
Too late his friends realized how they valued him,
But he came back, never seemed to tire,
A girl of extreme bravery,
A great leader to all,
Who stands ready for battle,
Her friends behind her to catch her if she ever falls,
A shadow-filled boy,
Of hidden feeling,
Though he'd never show love,
His shadow his friends where slowly stealing.
Blank Page
Clean Slate
Untouched
Somewhat
Once Great
Tho Not So Great Enough
Back Again
Here I Am
Here Again
Unfinished
Tinkered
Tailored
Soldiered Too Fit
Sailors Despise
Redundance
Repitition
Without Point
Without Goal
Without Role
Without Cause
Without Baseline
Without Ship
We All Crash
We All Drown
Why Am I Here
Why Do I Seek Ground
What Is Rich
What Is Poor
Why Does A Begging Man Thieve
Why Does A Thieving Man Beg
Does He
Does He Not
Why Is Happyness Not
Why Is Happyness Sought
I'm Just A Ship On An Ocean
Soldiering On
I'm Just A Sailor Adrift
I'm Just A Beggar Of Current
Richly Alive
Poorly Entwined
Richly Blessed
Poorly Denied & Damned
Fated Too Thieve
Fated Too Conspire
Ride The Waves
Too Navigate
Keep Sailing
Soldiering On
TInker Tailor
Soldier Spy
Richly Poor
Poorly Rich
Begging For Today
Thieving Towards Tommorrow
Leaning Towards Gallows
Scheming Towards Shallows
Solid Soil
Hallowed Ground
Where My Feet Rest Steady
Where My Breath Breathes Selfishly
Unswayed
Alone
Away From
Yet Amongst
The Tinkered With
The Tailored Too
Rich Man Poor Man
Pursuit
I'm Beggan Man
Please Untie This Noose
Bring Me Up
String Me Up
Set Me Free
Drowned Me Under
One Or The Other
One Or The Other
I'm A Soldier
I'm A Sailor
Ima Keep Soldiering On
Ima Keep Sailing
Thieving These Days
Thieving These Nights
Breathing And Drowning
Drowning And Breathing
Untill My Lungs Grow Gills
Untill My Souls 8 Timesed 10
I'm Gonna Walk
I'm Gonna Swim
I'm Gonna Tinker With My Tailor
I'm Gonna Soldier With My Spy
I'm Gonna Be A Rich Man
I'm Gonna Be A Poor Man
I'm Gonna Be A Beggar & A Thief
I'm Gonna Forever & Always
One Way Or Another
Always Be A Sailor
Navigating The Stars
Ill Find You Wherever You Are
Forever & Always
From Here To Botswan
It was to be repaired
She dared
Its hands had worn out
“I’ll do it”, she told herself aloud
A sense of false bravado
But Lo!
She climbed up the Clock Tower
A determination to rewrite life gave her the power
She would amend her yesterdays
Her very own ways
She went for the kill
The youngest needle,
Most energetic
She picked
Successfully turned it anti-clockwise
Many a times, and that too in a trice
The clock stopped, but the minutes continued to slip by
Time continued to fly
Till the wise Hour- Silent and serious
Told her thus
“Dear, stop your vain efforts
You cannot flirt
With Time gone past
Circumstances, whether good or bad, don’t last
Your past, you cannot repack
The clock cannot be turned back
Still, draw comfort
Your past may hurt
But you can repair the present ‘Me’
For your desired future, you see.”
So, she tinkered the present Hour and climbed down
A hopeful smile, replacing the frown
Now, follows a patient wait
For her type of mate
What dwells in light is blind to darker shades,
Unfixed by boundaries, yet tethered close;
A circle turns without a start or edge,
Electrons hum, the cosmos stirs and wakes.
Though shifting tides govern the starry floor,
All nature rests content in what it is;
Why thence man strains from being to become,
And miss the quiet grace of what he holds?
The world calls forward in march of progress,
Man hungers for the new, yet dreads the shift,
Resisting every turn of time's design.
Instead of marvelling at the passing road,
He counts the miles carved onto the stone,
When true joy moves inward, quiet, uncaused—
A welling spring that needs no earthly rain,
A state of grace that flows without a source.
Instead, man barters peace for tinkered toys
In search of fleeting joys that never last.
The human mind is split by inner stir:
The ego wants to claim the mountain crest,
The heart aches for the valley and the stream
To dip tired feet or walk on cooling grass,
And in this conflict spoils man’s present peace,
Thus losing the pure joy of simply being.
When days are cool he chases summer sun,
When they turn warm, he dreams of winter snow.
A lifetime spent in chasing there from here,
Voyage trapped in dreams of destination.
In reaching there—a phantom on the hill—
He misses quiet joy of travelling on.
The endless war of being to become,
When here and now holds the truth of his life.
And yet, how sad, the road to reaching here—
The quiet place of simply being still—
Gets clear only when the traveller tires,
Weary and worn out from the endless road.
The fruits of labour ripen when they please;
Alas, man muddles blindly through the dark,
Trapped in the space becoming and to be,
A conflict born of heedless head and heart.
______________________________
Reflections |18.07.2026 | creation, god, journey, joy, perfection, Blank Verse
Hearts torn & twisted --- All left to rot
The hate swarming & flooding rapes me inside
I wish to wake up in a hospital sometimes on a sexy nurse's cot
Burns & swells with adultery he committed that sinful night --- absolutely bled my pride!
Like splitting a pole, or demolishing a tree, inside reciting over & over in me
Our baby not even a year old yet --- he left us for no reason at all
Finally as far as I could see --- was nothing but hatred & water surrounding in this sea
Forgiving & Forgetting is what he expects me to do --- but how can I fix us from this fall?
Everything he's given to me at that point in my life was a lie
I noticed after a while he lost the ambition to move forward with us
But why wouldn't he explain to me where he thought it was I wouldn't try?
After 3 weeks of separation (that almost turned legal) he finally realized who to trust
He came home one night & tried to reclaim his family again
I told him I wasn't interested that if he left once, he'd definitely leave twice
He cried for 3 days (estimating at best) until he determined a way for all 3 of us to win
Our tax refund for 2011 (as we filed married together) was way more suitable than 'nice'
He came up with this wacky plan where we'd take all the money, our family, and run
Somewhere to the beach (East Coast) we both agreed could possibly be the spot
So, Myrtle Beach, South Carolina is where we both agreed we could be with our sun
& still when I look back a few months I saw where we were then --- & it's changed a lot
Deciding to mend our marriage was a difficult and hard decision to make with a baby
But stepping aside from the anger, hurt, & rage, we knew we could possibly get thru it
So we stayed together for our family, ourselves, our love & thought, "..well maybe.."
Bright Myrtle Beach where neither of us know anyone, is where our 1st candle will be lit
Walks on the beaches, bright sunsets over the ocean, & raising our son together
Finding new & interesting jobs, meeting people, even when happiness is about
Tinkered with love and sparkled with ups and downs, our love forever endeavors
For now this we've decided is, as of now, our one & only best route